The guards, roused by the steps of the horse, awoke, and were on foot in a minute. The young man waited till one of them was close to his saddle-bow: then, stooping towards him, in a clear, distinct voice, which was perfectly audible at the window where the two girls were concealed, “A message for his royal highness,” he said. “Ah, ah!” cried the soldier. “Officer, a messenger!” But this brave guard knew very well that no officer would appear, seeing that the only one who could have appeared dwelt at the other side of the castle, in an apartment looking into the gardens. So he hastened to add: “The officer, monsieur, is on his rounds; but, in his absence, M. de Saint-Remy, the maitre d’hotel, shall be informed.” “M. de Saint-Remy?” repeated the cavalier, slightly blushing. “Do you know him?” “Why, yes; but request him, if you please, that my visit be announced to his royal highness as soon as possible.” “It appears to be pressing,” said the guard, as if speaking to himself, but really in the hope of obtaining an answer. The messenger made an affirmative sign with his head. “In that case,” said the guard, “I will go and seek the maitre d’hotel myself.” The young man, in the meantime, dismounted; and whilst the others were making their remarks upon the fine horse the cavalier rode, the soldier returned. “Your pardon, young gentleman; but your name, if you please?” “The Vicomte de Bragelonne, on the part of his highness M. le Prince de Conde.” The soldier made a profound bow, and, as if the name of the conqueror of Rocroi and Lens had given him wings, he stepped lightly up the steps leading to the ante-chamber. A. de Bragelonne had not had time to fasten his horse to the iron bars of the perron, when M. de Saint-Remy came running, out of breath, supporting his capacious body with one hand, whilst with the other he cut the air as a fisherman cleaves the waves with his oar. “Ah, Monsieur le Vicomte! You at Blois!” cried he. “Well, that is a wonder. Good-day to you—good-day, Monsieur Raoul.” “I offer you a thousand respects, M. de Saint-Remy.” “How Madame de la Vall—I mean, how delighted Madame de Saint-Remy will be to see you! But come in. His royal highness is at breakfast—must he be interrupted? Is the matter serious?” “Yes, and no, Monsieur de Saint-Remy. A moment’s delay, however, would be disagreeable to his royal highness.” “If that is the case, we will force the consigne, Monsieur le Vicomte. Come in. Besides, Monsieur is in an excellent humor to-day. And then you bring news, do you not?” “Great news, Monsieur de Saint-Remy. “And good, I presume?” “Excellent.” “Come quickly, come quickly then!” cried the worthy man, putting his dress to rights as he went along. Raoul followed him, hat in hand, and a little disconcerted at the noise made by his spurs in these immense salons.